


watch me bleed out

by hackercatz (tsunbrownie)



Series: you've changed my heart, now deal with the consequences [2]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: (akc's mother), Akechi Goro Has A Palace, Character Study, Choking, Cock Slut, Come Eating, Crying, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Deepthroating, Depression, Detective Akechi Goro, Dissociation, Disturbing Themes, Dubious Consent, Extremely Disturbing Themes, Extremely Dubious Consent, Face-Fucking, Gangbang, Gaslighting, Guilt, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Manipulative Relationship, Mind Break, Mind Manipulation, Non-Persona user Akechi Goro, Objectification, POV Akechi Goro, Rough Sex, Sexual Training, Slut Shaming, Suicidal Thoughts, Unreliable Narrator, both internal and by shido, change of heart, heartchange au, shuake explicit but ten percent of fic, this is Problematic with capital P, well he did. it crumbles in the first 3 paragraphs of the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:47:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24180811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsunbrownie/pseuds/hackercatz
Summary: The Phantom Thieves steal the treasure lying in the depths of Akechi Goro's palace.Some desires are not meant to be stolen.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Other(s), Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: you've changed my heart, now deal with the consequences [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1746571
Comments: 8
Kudos: 94





	watch me bleed out

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [broken desire](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23244019) by [orreoeoeoro (creamyoreofillings)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/creamyoreofillings/pseuds/orreoeoeoro). 



> for chelsey who now has a better grasp on these dorks than i do. sorry that it took me TWO MONTHS to do what you could do in a single day orz. this fic is actually just the mobgoro remix of theirs! if you want the mostly shuake and less disturbing rendition you would need to read [this one](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23244019)!
> 
> WARNING: MIND THE TAGS BEFORE READING!!!! THOROUGHLY!!!!!!!!!!!!! if any part squicks you/triggers please immediately stop reading because the content of these fic is straight out disturbing and the narrative is told from an **extremely** skewed and mentally unstable individual's point of view. u see the unreliable narrator tag there? that is very intentional. what is happening here is blatant teenage extortion, manipulation and (sexual) abuse and that's the point of the fic 
> 
> anyways if u got that: Enjoy!

_"What about it! It was a necessity in order to survive! Not everyone gets a convenient superpower to change a horrible human being's heart. Sometimes the only way is to get a little dirty!"_

_"P-Please don't take it, anything but the treasure. It was the only thing we could do... There was no other option..."_

_"Shut it, Robin. We did the right thing. That was justice! Those men deserved it! You don't know what they did to me! To us! We do the same shit, cleaning up society's trash!"_

_"If we had a better way, we would have done it. Please, Joker. You can't, can'tcan'tcan'tcan't... I'll do anything_ — _I'll apologize for everything, get on my knees if you want me to, but you can't take the treasure."_

_"What makes our desires to succeed any less valid than yours! What makes you better than us!"_

_"I don't want to go back anymore... Not there.. I don't want to be..."_

_"If you take that, you'd be killing me. You don't know what you're taking! You understand nothing!"_

_"Joker, Joker, no, please, stop, no, no, please..."_

_"You hear me, Joker! My blood is on your hands!"_

* * *

**PT**

**JOKER** : Good job, everyone

**SKULL** : YEAH FINALLY!!!

**PANTHER** : im glad thats good and over w/... phew...

**NAVI** : altho... even tho we cleared the plc i dnt feel that good

**NOIR** : i know what that feels like...

**FOX** : Hmm. I thought You out of everyone would Enjoy this particular project.

**NOIR** : i know that Akechi-kun was the one who completely wrecked my father's credentials that even his apology wouldn't be taken seriously by the public, yes.

**QUEEN** : Don't forget that he was hell bent on destroying us unconditionally despite having told us he thought the PT were doing the right thing. We had to do what had to be done. 

**NOIR** : but, still... his palace. it just seemed different. broken somehow. all those people, all those battles... just to survive and to prove himself...

**NAVI** : i had a palace so i kinda understand

**NAVI** : thought my mom died bc me and it drove me down a self destructive spiral

**NAVI** : but akc's... he rly thinks the entire world is out 2 get him

**NAVI** : kinda makes u wonder what turned him like that. hes only 18 rite. noir n queens age

**JOKER** : Well we did what he could do

**JOKER** : Hopefully he redeems himself and becomes a proper detective 

**NAVI** : if that is what happens

**JOKER** : Hm?

**NAVI** : no. just thinking. nothing

* * *

When Goro wakes up the morning after the calling card, all he can think... is that he's _tired_. He is so, so tired, the mind-crushing depression obliterating his will to do anything. The routine trained segment of his mind urges him up, yet the most his thought process is muffled and groggy, refusing to cooperate.

_You should be getting up. You have school, you have an interview after, then a declaration, then a phone call from Shido-san..._

Goro opens his eyes and looks up at his ceiling, into the blindingly bright fluorescent light. His eyes are being damaged. He doesn't care. He _can't care_. His phone rings. He ignores it as he closes his eyes and slips back into blissful sleep.

* * *

When he wakes up again, the sun is setting through the undisclosed curtains. Unable to keep himself unconscious is what finally forces him up, rubbing his eyes as the exhaustion still numbs the sharpness of the world.

His phone alert has forty-two messages insisting he checks them, but he can't be bothered, so he flips them over and yawns. He can't be bothered to do anything. All his energy and rage is only there as phantom pain in his memories—he remembers them being his sole ruthless motivator, but he cannot summon them into his being anymore. So he slips back into the covers, staring at the ceiling. It's so _white_. It's amazing, he's never noticed how white his ceiling was before.

_Hm_ , is all he thinks before he closes his eyes and lets the darkness take over again.

* * *

When Goro wakes up, his mind is groggy but he can't sleep anymore. So he sighs and goes back to his ceiling-watching, staring at the white, ignoring as his phone chirps once ten minutes informing him of a new message. What's the point of becoming the star detective, being loved by everything else, anyways? Getting his revenge on the one man that caused his mother's death and his miserable childhood?

He's always thought his mother didn't kill him that day because she wanted him to succeed. Wanted him to become something better than a bastard child raised under a single mother. That's been his sole motivation to doing everything, no matter what the cost, no matter the life he has had to drive to ruin, but those thoughts only make him horrified in the stomach now, sick despite not having eaten anything for days. He's done that to all those people, for what, _revenge_? That wouldn't still bring his mother back, when she took that knife and slit her own wrist in the bathtub, sitting dead-eyed for a young version of himself to find. Corrupting his father's legacy would be another tally to that, his history of ruining people's life by existing. He really is a cursed child, isn't he? He laughs hysterically, devolving into a cough as he shudders.

Then his phone rings. This time his ears perk because it's a specific tune and not the default one for everyone else, and he only has a special ring tone set for one person. The primary suspect of the Phantom Thieves. The Phantom Thieves didn't matter, either, he doesn't want to chase down another group of people to ruin their lives again but...

Akira was important. Akira _is_ important. He flicks open his phone, ignores the long string of unread messages as he reaches for Akira's message, flicking it open and squinting at it. The screen is so bright compared to the room, and it _hurts_.

* * *

**AKIRA** : Hey Akechi you doing alright?

**AKIRA** : Haven't heard from you in a while.

**YOU** : not sure

**YOU** : tired

**AKIRA** : You sure? Want me to come over and make you some coffee?

**YOU** : no

**YOU** : feel sick

**AKIRA** : Hope you feel better soon

**YOU** : mm

* * *

Akechi spends a long time thinking about why he's so cursed while submerged in his apathy and burrowed in the blankets, and he comes to a single conclusion: because he's tried to succeed. He's tried to rise above the station that society has already predetermined for him, defied the role he's been given upon birth. 

_A prostitute's child. What kind of future would he have? If he doesn't starve to death, he'd follow his mother's footsteps._

He is a _nobody_ , and he should have stayed as a nobody, fading away to the ether. In a country where heritage dictates the future, he's never had any hopes for one since the moment he had been born. Yet he's refused to submit to the order of the world for so long, and his recalcitrance has led to so many lives being ruined and cases being forged, all because he was acting like an uneducated child.

_Ruined_. Ruined tens and hundreds of lives, that's what he's done in the names of justice. The weight of his actions sink deeply into his stomach, pulling his heart alongside it. And for _what_? Breathing becomes difficult as he recalls each and every one of his targets— _victims_ , carved indelibly in his skin and bones, a curse of his sharp memory. Weren't at least one of them a child just as old as him, wasn't there even a girl that was _younger_ than him? Those people had family and people who cared for him, unlike him. How could he have _possibly_ thought that this could have been justified?

What has he _done?_

He dashes towards the restroom, immediately clutching to the two side of the porcelain as he gags and retches violently, barely anything coming up because he hasn't eaten in _days_. He closes his eyes and everyone he may as well have killed stares back at him dead-eyed from behind his eyelids, and he chokes as he opens them desperately to flee again. He crawls away in terror as their mixed voices begin to echo around in his head, _please don't detective, we haven't done anything wrong, we're being framed, we're innocent_.

A shout and a crack echoes from a distance, but it doesn't properly register in his numb mind. The nails crawling on his skin frowns out everything else, hands clutching and tearing against him, begging and shouting _please mister I don't wanna, I have no idea what you're saying_...

Akechi barely crawls back to his bedroom, burrowing his body into the blankets, trying to drown out the voices and the chills refrigerating the room now. He's dedicated his entire life to chasing after monsters, but what he hasn't realized was that _he_ was the monster.

His solace is interrupted as the lights come alight and his body is forcefully lifted and thrown against the harsh flooring. The impact is powerful enough to bruise but the light hurts more, and he curls into himself and moans pathetically, begging it all to stop soundlessly. It hurts. It all feels too _real_.

A merciless voice cuts through his haze and apathy. _"Akechi."_

Looming over his scrabbling form is his boss and his father. His creator always overshadowed him from his magnificent sky throne, defining him against his wishes when he _despised_ him with all his heart. Akechi had been carefully constructing a Tower of Babel out of corpses to reach him, to _fell_ him. To bring him down to the mortal realm to make him feel what _he_ felt as an abandoned, miserable, cursed child.

What would have been the _point_ of all that? It wouldn't have brought his mother back. Vengeance is pointless, there is no meaning to it. Justice? How can someone like him even _talk_ about justice? He's a nobody, meaningless and his worthless attempt at it has only destroyed all those lives and families. 

"You haven't been responding to any of the messages as of late."

"S-Sir," he barely lets it out, shivering dangerously. What can he even offer to Shido? He's a _disgrace_. A liar and a destroyer of lives, and he was going to eventually take the gun and aim it point blank against his temple just like how he's driven his own mother to suicide through his _existence_ —

"You were confident you could get to the Phantom Thieves before they changed your heart," he barks out. "You told me you figured out their identities."

"I've done so many wrong," he brings his legs up to hug them, still unable to meet the man in the eyes. The Phantom Thieves. _The Phantom Thieves._ "I've... I can't..."

Shido looks at him like he's no better than a stain on the floor. "Who _are_ they!?"

Did they change his heart? Is that what happened? The intellectual side of him informs him that it's close to their MO's, the apathy and the horrifying guilt overflowing out of their victims. The rest of his mind informs him that this is who he has been all along. "I don't know," he lies as he closes his eyes. "I don't know _I don't know_... I don't understand anything anymore..."

Shido observes him with vague interest. "It's as if you've changed fundamentally as a human being."

A moment of clarity strikes him. "I can't live like this... I have to tell them," he slurs as he tries to bring himself up, failing when he can't get the strength up his limbs, "it's the least I can do to make up for everyone I've ruined..."

There's whispering among the people, then the footsteps get closer until the sole of the shoe is viciously digging into his ribcage. "Is that what you wish to do? If you tell everyone about everything, you'll ruin hundreds of other lives. People who looked over your misdemeanors, people who have contracted you. Is that what you want, Akechi? Are you going to ruin even _more_ lives for the sake of redeeming your selfish and pathetic need for approval?"

"But... If... If that's not the case, what _can_ I do?" Everything is hazy and too bright and painful, the light exploding from the inside and the outside, and Goro just wants it to stop. He wants everything to end.

A gun drops in front of him. It clicks menacingly as it hits the wooden flooring. His mind whitens out as he takes it to his hand, and he hears the muted, "you know what you can do."

_This is what I deserve, this is the only way I can make up for everything..._ Goro presses down the trigger, feeling numb and resigned. 

_Click._ The gun clicks to an empty chamber. 

"You actually would," Shido sounds genuinely surprised. "Interesting. Guilt overbearing enough that _you_ would throw away your life so carelessly."

"I don't..." He shivers on the floor, still unable to look up from the floor without having the guilt tear through his heart. Why isn't he dead? It is surely what he deserves. "Sir... I don't _understand_..." 

"As useless as you've been lately, you're absolutely no use to me as a corpse," the suited man barks. "As... _complacent_ as you've become, I'll find some new use for you."

He knows what Shido is talking about. He _remembers_. Akechi was valuable to his agenda as a detective and a media phenomenon to him that he avoided the fate most of the time, but it didn't mean he was completely exempt. Sometimes a text from an unknown number would demand his presence at a motel at 8PM stat, and for the rest of the night he'd be subject to filthy hands and dirty leers tearing him apart, forced in the presence of repulsive men. Yet, once the fury he has held for those rich congressmen is not something he can find within his heart anymore. Isn't it where he should have been from the very beginning? Hadn't _that_ been his destiny?

_End up a whore just like his mother..._

"I..." Goro gathers himself, kneeling on the floor, eyes still locked at the floor. "I'll do anything you need me to do, sir," he slurs, the exhaustion numbing him once again. "Anything to make up for what I've done... What I have tried to do..." 

A card drops in front of him. It's a number and an address. "At least you understand your position. Someone like you has no place in this world unless it's on your hands and knees serving people who will lead this world's future." 

Once upon a time, those words would have infuriated him. He can feel the shadow of his past in his memories, but none of those emotions are clouding his eyes now and he knows, knows those words are only the absolute truth. "I understand, sir." 

A question hits him, and Goro... shouldn't. He's done so much wrong already, inflicted so much damage when he should have kept his head down and accepted who he was like everyone else of this world. But, but. He _has_ to know the answer to the one question. One particular question. "Sir," he starts faintly, barely audible to others in the ghastly room, "did you ever know that I was your son?" 

Shido's eyes widen from behind the tinted glasses, then the man smiles, _really_ smiles, the full predator's grin before it devours a prey. "Yes. I've known from the very beginning." 

With that, the remaining doubt is carved away from him, the last of the smoldering embers burn out. Once upon a time—a mere week ago—that answer would have devastated him, but all he feels now is lethargy. _Truly the fool who tried to rise above his station_. "Thank you for telling me," Goro breathes out, _it was pointless, it was all pointless from the very beginning_. He bows promptly as he , feeling his lips twitch up. "I won't miss your call, sir."

* * *

**AKIRA** : You still feeling tired

**YOU** : No! I feel better, thank you.

**YOU** : I've been contemplating about some priorities of my life the past few days.

**AKIRA** : The media is making a genuine fit over you not appearing on any interviews right now after the PT sent the calling card to you honestly

**YOU** : I know, my phone won't stay silent. Turned it on just for you...

**AKIRA** : Should I be flattered (: 

**YOU** : Probably.

**AKIRA** : You think you'll have time to drop by Leblanc once? am worried 

**YOU** : Later... I have a job interview for now. Thank you for your consideration, Akira.

**AKIRA** : yw

* * *

Goro hasn't had to go to a _job interview_ for years. Not this particular job, because he's looked far too much his age as a fifteen year old (not that it's stopped some adults, a part of his mind hisses viciously, but it dies off as quickly as it comes) but _any_. The first and only job he's ever taken was as the charismatic Detective Prince, really. Although there's been a few _part times_ here and there. 

He's dressed in a low hoodie and a pair of training pants because putting on his usual detective clothes felt _wrong_ , like they were weighed down by the sins he's committed while wearing it. Along with dark circles under his eyes and his unkempt hair, he is practically unrecognized as he slides into the given address. 

Now that he reflects back to his years, he realizes he hasn't ever been a detective, only a con man. Making a sweet narrative for the media to drink down—a genius prodigy detective with a flair for dramatics. He's adored the attention they've fed him, but he now sees it all for what it is: futility. Someone born from nothing will forever be nothing; Goro's job is to stay in the darkness and fade away.

It's not his first time being in the red light district—both as a detective and as one of Shido's _assets_ —and he tends to be good absorbing geography, so it doesn't take long for him to find the address written on the card despite the vagueness of it. It's a building tucked in the edges of the forest of structures, an undergrounds karaoke bar blinking in horrifically bright lights, _WELCOME_!

It's a front for a brothel. He wasn't born yesterday.

He pushes the hoodie down more and creaks open the door just enough to slide his body into it. The music is mind-shatteringly loud as he descends down the stairs alight with fluorescent lights, yet it's _still_ not loud enough to cover up the sounds of whores moaning and the sounds of whips cracking. Cradling his torso between his arms, he steers himself forward until his thighs bump against the information desk.

The woman smoking on the table barely acknowledges him until he carefully places the card on the table and pushes it across the wood. The woman takes it dubiously, eyes widening as she takes in the paper fragment. "The back door," she jerks, avoiding his eyes as he carefully pushes past her and the jewel curtains.

He barely catches her comment as he walks down the hallway. "Still looks like a kid, wonder how badly 'ya gotta have to fuck up to end up _here_ at that age..."

It's a straight path with a single door at the end, so he trots mindlessly, the music fading away and the moans only getting louder. He winces as he hears the vulgar words echoing around him, breath coming out in frozen huffs.

He carefully opens the door, slinking inside without being noticed. He sits carefully, making small movements not to draw attention, then stops right in front of the desk. "Sir. I'm here for the _interview_."

"Oh yeah, you must be..." The man nonchalantly waves away at his disguise. "There's no need for that anymore."

Now away from public sight, he pushes away the hoodie and the baseball cap to properly unfurl himself. He lets out a huff as the cold air hits his neck despite the lengthy curls that roll down them. Cocking his head slightly, he keeps himself straight and rigid.

The man stares at him wide-eyed. "You're..."

"Akechi Goro, sir," he bows succinctly, then brings himself to full height.

"You _have_ got to be kidding me," the man's eyes twitch, but when Goro keeps his face completely neutral and serious, he laughs heartily. "Why the fuck would someone like you be here? You know what this place is, right?"

"I am to offer you my body, in any way you wished to use it?" Goro rubs his lips. "I'm not a virgin, sir, I know what this place is a front for. Frankly, you haven't even done a good job hiding it." 

"You're serious," the man eyes him disbelievingly, then breaks out a huge grin. "well, well, well. Don't know how the Phantom Thieves did it, but I'll give them some credit."

The Phantom Thieves, he dazedly thinks. They must have _really_ changed his heart if everyone keeps getting surprised. 

The man eyes him up and down, and turns his chair towards him, legs spread out. A start of a hard-on is showing through the fabric there. "Well then, _detective_ ," the man rolls the word around his tongue like it's a joke, "get on your knees and show me how serious you are about what you're saying. _Convince_ me."

Yes. _Yes_. This is a chance for Goro to prove himself, that this is where he actually belongs. Falling down on his knees automatically, he goes for the belt buckle with a needy sound, undoing them quickly to pull out the man's cock from its confines. Goro doesn't bother with any of the foreplay as he latches onto it immediately, taking it into his mouth while rolling the balls with his knuckles. He sucks hard, letting the head graze against his throat as he runs his tongue down skillfully down the cock, then he pulls back until just the crown is sitting in his mouth, drinking down the precome that has gathered there, tonguing lightly against the slit.

"Oh, fuck," the owner hisses in pleasure as he slides his fingers into Goro's locks and pulls once harshly so he takes it as deeply as he can. "you suck like a fucking professional. You weren't kidding about not being a virgin, huh?"

Goro takes the shaft out from his mouth to rub his cheek at it, raising his head to meet the man eye to eye with a feverish gaze. "Am I doing good, sir?"

"Like you've been _made_ for this," the man huffs, and Goro feels his heart skyrocket in joy. He was right. This is where he needs to be, not sitting around under harsh lighting watched by everyone in the world, desiring something so out of his league. _This_ is his place in the world. "Now, finish what you've started."

"Of course, sir," Goro flutters his eyelashes for emphasis before dipping his head down to take it demurely into his mouth again. The shaft is hot, feverish against his tongue, and as it slides between his lips to drag its head deeper and deeper into his own mouth, he feels heady and dizzy. He drops a hand to rub his own needy dick trapped in so many layers, moaning around the obstruction as the pleasure jolts up his spine.

When the cock twitches, indicating that he's so close to being rewarded for his good work, a hand harshly pulls him off the length with a jerk, and Goro makes a confused, surprised yelp. It doesn't last because soon it's spraying come everywhere, across his face, into his carefully managed silky hair, and down his hoodie. There's a sound of a camera shutter, but it doesn't matter, nothing matters when he's been reconstructed from the very core. He just reaches forward to take the now soft shaft, tonguing the slit until he can't taste any salty musk there, then lifting a shaky hand to his face, collecting some drops with his digits to bring them to his mouth. 

"Fuck," the other man hisses, " _fuck_." 

Goro looks up with glazed eyes, sucking on his fingers punctually. "Thank you for your come, mister," he mewls, panting a bit for emphasis, "did I pass?"

"With _flying fucking colors_ , Akechi," the man nudges the head of his cock until it's rubbing against a stained mess on his cheek, and Goro doesn't need to hear more to take it back in his mouth again to clean it up. It happens a few more times after that, Goro cleaning up the stained cockhead. "You're going to need a bit more training, but with that enthusiasm you should be okay taking clients from tomorrow. Be here at two PM sharp, you'll learn some basics and then you'll see to some guests. That's what you want, isn't it?"

_Tomorrow_. That's so much sooner than he expected, but it's not bad. "Y-Yes, sir," he nods to now his new employer, lightning pulsing through his veins. His cock is still hard, and it's started to make a stain on his pants. "It is, sir. I won't be late." 

The man's smile turns shark like as he turns away. "Good, because I don't go easy on my whores. And I expect the best behaviors from you, _detective_." 

_Not anymore_ , Goro thinks. But he merely nods, thanks him again and leaves. He finally feels so fucking _alive_. 

* * *

**AKIRA** : Really worried

**AKIRA** : I have some curry can I at least feed you

**YOU** : You really don't have to worry about me anymore.

**YOU** : I've been blind for so long, but... now I'm going to do the right thing. 

**AKIRA** : Really?

**YOU** : Yes.

**AKIRA** : I trust you to do the right thing.

**YOU** : I appreciate it, Akira-kun. I'll come over for your amazing curry in a few days, so don't worry.

**AKIRA** : Please :)

* * *

"You cleaned out your hole already, didn't you?"

Goro nods demurely from his place on the chair. He feels a bit fidgety, can't help himself—now that he's all cleaned up, it all feels so _real_. He's only wearing a white shirt and a pair of tight black jeans that show off the curves of his body, all the other clothing already haphazardly thrown at the floor. His new boss from the brothel is looming right in front of him, dressed in a casual suit, fingers carefully balancing a riding crop, dragging the leather across his skin.

The pressure can be felt through the crisp shirt fabric. "Off with these too, now."

He breathes out and complies, carefully undoing the buttons of his shirt, shivering as the expression on the man turns from indifference to hunger. Once he's finished, he shrugs them off his body, cool November air hitting his bare chest and earning a puff from him.

The leather tips his head up to follow down the curve of his neck, pressing down on his pert nipples. "Sensitive, aren't you? Hard already. Keep going."

Goro wore training pants here for a reason, all he has to do is push them down and push at the ankles a few time to wiggle out of them. Within a minute he's completely naked when he tosses away the underwear and the pants aside, and he feels _too_ exposed, standing in front of a man who's still completely, perfectly dressed. He wants to curl into himself, hide himself from sight, but he knows he's not permitted to. He carefully raises himself, swiveling on his feet as he tries to catch his balance, and offers his body up for examination.

The man circles around him like a predator, the crop sensually rubbing down his pelvis, circling around his balls, and his cock, meeting no resistance—he's been commanded to shave before this, _completely, everywhere_. The leather never stops, travelling down his taut thighs then back up to slide between his globes.

After a bit more pacing and pressing, he makes a thoughtful hum. "A bit more muscly than I've thought, but not too much to be a turn-off, just a surprise. Though..." The man sneers as he uses the riding crop to prod at his cock. "This is the smallest goddamn dick I've seen, and I've seen my fair share of dicks. I don't think this can even constitute as meat. It's barely a stick."

"I..." Goro stares down to his cock to where the leather is caressing over the shaft sensually, feeling his face heat up. The size of his manhood has never been quite relevant anywhere. 

"It's frickin' tiny. We're going to have to get you a customized cage. But it's minuscule, so it'll fit in snugly in people's grips, will be easy for them to slap the whole length to get you to tighten up around em'. The shape and color are all nice, just like your nipples. Maybe a piercing?" the pad rubs against his cockhead. "A few. It'd be aesthetically pleasing, and it's not like you'll ever get to use your cock properly." 

Goro stares down, imagines the tiny silver ring in his dick. How it'd look. He bites his lips. "I... Anything that needs to be done, sir." 

"You really mean that, don't you?" The man seems pleased. "Well, just one more thing to check."

"What is it, sir?" 

Without any warning apart from a split grin, the man brings down the riding crop against his cock and balls _hard_.

The impact _burns_ like nothing he's felt before. "Ah!" His knees buckle in pain the instant the strike hits, the pain is overbearing, but at the same time he feels familiar fire coiling at the bottom of his stomach. 

When he drags himself to full height, he finds his dick hard and curled against the stomach, The spot where the strike hit is red and aching. He shivers in confusion as the crop presses down against the sensitive flesh, eliciting pain and a spurt of pre from the cockhead.

"Definitely a masochist, getting hard from this," the man muses, mercilessly prodding against the reddened skin. Goro can only chew his lips pathetically as closer and closer to orgasm. "That means you won't have to learn to act it." 

"Thank you," he murmurs in his confused haze, it must be a good thing with his boss sounding so pleased like that. "It wouldn't have been a problem if I had to act, sir. I'm good at pretending."

"Oh, you'll still have much to pretend about, but that's a lesson for another day. Now, turn over," the man signals, and Goro wordless complies, bending himself over the chair and spreading out his legs and ass to expose himself. The cold underground air hits his lube-slick hole, and he pants, throat gone completely dry.

He doesn't get a warning this time around either as the thick cock penetrates him without _any preparation whatsoever_. "God, you're tight," the man grits out, iron tight grip on his flesh, and Goro burrows his face into the headrest to hide his pain. 

It doesn't last long, barely a few minutes until the man rams hard against his prostate, tearing a moan out of him. Goro squeezes around the shaft splitting him open, his hard cock bounces against his stomach at every thrust incoming. He lowers his left to grasp his hard cock, a twist of his fist running an electricity of sensations down his spine. 

"You're touching yourself already?" The man behind him sneers as he presses in, the head brushing against the prostate, earning another desperate moan from his prone form. "Thought you got yourself in a bad deal or something to end up here, but you're just a whore, aren't you?" The man derides him viciously. "You're here because you _like_ it, getting yourself dicked down by a stranger."

It should be humiliating. It should be mortifying. Instead, those words are what helps him reach the brink, making a mess all over himself as he comes, exhausting himself and leaving wet splatter all over his hands and stomach. 

"That's a good boy, tighten around my cock like that, perfect..."

His orgasm doesn't deter the force of the thrusts in his ass, only urges them forward. The rhythm turns erratic as they turn faster, as the cock chases after its own orgasm, using Goro like a toy in the process. Goro feels like a nobody. Goro feels like an object existing for other people to get off. It feels perfect and good and _right_ and he's floating. 

_Oh. I could get used to this._

Goro's spent cock jumps when he gets seeded deep, filled raw with another man's ejaculation. It's different, because this is one line he didn't let the others have when they fucked him, always made them wear a condom—he may have had to sleep with them, that didn't give them any rights to creampie him. The warmth spreads in his belly as the man pulls out. 

A trickle of cum drips down his legs without the cock plugging it all in, leaving him all open and used on the chair as he cleans himself up lazily with napkins. "Oh yes, you're going to be popular," the man muses as he shoves two fingers up Goro's ass to scissor his used hole open, "what a sight. _This_ should be televised." 

"Mn," Goro barely lets out, still too sensitive. The fingers thankfully leave him after a bit of prodding. "'s it over?"

There's a pat against his head. "For today, yes. Clean yourself up and I'll see you tomorrow."

He hums out a pleasant affirmative, and the stroking touch retreats and soon there's the sound of a door closing shut. 

* * *

Goro remembers the next few days in snippets. 

A tight harness fixed over him, a collar tight enough to debilitate his ability to breathe along with a thick tail plug filling him up and a cock leash connected to the main collar. Pulled and pushed from one place to another on a leash in the darkness, hands patting him down and murmurs appraising him. Completely immobile, in the mercy of strangers that'd fit their cocks in his mouth just to watch him drool uselessly around them, then start pulling on his leash or start the vibrator pressed against his prostate just to watch him twist and beg wordlessly around their cock. Forced to cater to an impossibly difficult set of requests, then later caned and whipped for being a disappointing, undomesticated animal if he couldn't comply. His cock gripped, made fun of and kicked whenever he jerked at a violent lash or a hit against his body, _god, what a fucking whore_. Later tied against a railing and tail dildo removed to be fucked roughly against the floor in doggy position by anyone who had enough energy to glance over at him a second time. 

Once he is tied up against a fucking machine, his limbs all locked in steel chains as the metal dildo rhythmically and mercilessly thrust against his prostate each time. _Punishment for coming without permission_ , they've said, _so you get to come until you can't and you're begging to stop_. Mouth locked in a ring gag and forced to take a bored and horny passerby's cock all the way to the back of his throat, his hair used like a leash for a quick and hard fuck until it exploded in the deepest part of his mouth, leaving him no choice but to swallow down the seed fed to him. His own cock twitching pathetically at the taste of cum, the cruel machine somehow dragging out yet another orgasm from his exhausted prone body. There has been so many of them, all different cocks but all huge and demanding on his tongue, taking pleasure from his hole of their own leisure and awarding him with a dose of their ejaculation. Continuing until Goro's world turns upside down and the chains and the bindings become the only reason he's still kept up. Until his stomach becomes bloated from all the come he's been fed by the gracious hosts entertaining him. Then the chains had been released, and he's been dropped against the mess he's created himself, told to clean it up. With his mouth, of course. 

Another time: His cock sounded, urethra filled with thick stainless steel, vibrating and hitting his prostate from that side as men toss him from one to another, fucking him on their thick cocks hard and rough and uncaring in the middle of their poker game. Gagged and bound, treated as nothing more than a convenient sleeve there for their entertainment, in no means any more alive than the cards they're playing on the table. Goro would be filled deep and hot, then he would never get a break until he was offered to another man with a boner to be _used_ to deal with their problem. Hot tears trailing down his cheek and spit down his chin, come creaming out around the metal despite the intrusion, everything hurting and too much and overwhelming and sensitive, he can't, please, please... Continuing for hours until Goro's ass was filled with so much come every time someone came over to use him, a push into his ass would cause some to leak out around the shaft. Leaving him still tied up and vulnerable on the pool table when they're finished with him, their laughter among each other on how much they've filled this cockwhore barely reaching his ears because the entire world has turned fuzzy. 

Also, placed in a middle of a fancy party, dolled up like marionette. Lipstick smeared on his lips, ass filled so deep with liquor he's getting drunk off it, people spilling their drinks so they can lick it off him. The pleasant buzz of inebriation cushioning his senses, not even flinching as they gradually get rougher, flogging him and beating him, his pale skin a canvas for these nameless men to defile with bruises. A needle against his arm, then the world is swimming in even brighter kaleidoscopic lights as he gets filled—in his ass, in his mouth, in his very spirit. There are so many cocks rubbing against him, a pair in his hands, a few nudging against his caged cock to spill all over the leather bindings, and more against his nipple, he can't keep track of them all, forget pleasing them. All he can do is lie there mindlessly as the pretty fuckdoll as they assault him with pleasure over and over and over and over again until he forgets his own name. Until everyone's sated, their cocks flagged, only his own still weeping in cherry red trapped in their leather straps. Then he is bent in half with his ridiculous flexibility, ankles slammed next to his ear, his cum-overflowing asshole out for hungry gazes of the patrons. _Smile for the camera Akechi-kun_ , they'd croon at him, and even in his drug-addled haze he'd put on the prettiest smile he can manage, shakily raising his two arms to offer a double peace sign for the lenses to capture.

He can't be sure what is happening, but at the end of the day he feels filled and sated and ecstatic for doing the right thing once again, for pleasing so many people with their body. This is what society expects of him, and Goro has been a fool to fight it so long.

* * *

Goro is almost getting used to the tight ripped jeans covering his ass and the loose white shirt brushing against his nipples. He is definitely used to the feverish brightness of night Shinjuku; all the incandescent lights and deafening noises overloading his senses and numbing his mind.

It's a motel room this time—all he knows is the time and the place, but knowing how his past few days have been going, he knows it won't be one or two people on that bed. He's too expensive to be used by one person anyways. When he enters the building surreptitiously, the girl on the counter throws him a dubious look as she tosses him an unmarked key. They've come across each other often enough that she knows that he isn't here as a member of the police. _Thank you_ , he mouths her quickly before ducking into the borrowed corner of the motel.

When he carefully peeks into the room, he counts seven people lying on the bed and languidly conversing among himself. He's so glad he's prepared himself by getting the needed rest and stretching himself out prior, some of these people are very inconsiderate. No longer wanting to hesitate, he pushes the door open and pads onward, twisted heart enjoying how everyone's hungry gaze immediately snaps to him.

He barely gets his shirt off before those starved hands are grasping and pulling against him, having their hot cocks rubbing against any of his skin they can reach. Goro mewls and lets them pull on his strings, let them press down his pants to his ankles and sink their shafts into his already-loose hole, enjoying how they moan because of him and how they talk among themselves about how much a good fuck he is and a fine asshole he's got.

He likes it when they tell him how good he's being for them, how good he is. What a fine slut he is, _all that detective act's all been fake, huh? This is how you really got your fame, whoring yourself out to the media and the police?_ It's not far from the truth anyways, when he's forged all those evidence in order to manipulate cases to his favor, for the sake of his pathetic revenge that hadn't even _mattered_ in the end. But like this, on this squeaky mattress, with people roughly fucking into his ass and grabbing him by the hair to choke him with cock, he knows his body is serving some pleasurable purpose, his original purpose. Such an unhappy life for pointless revenge... when he could have had _this_ all along.

This is why the Phantom Thieves changed his heart. This is why Akira took his desires.

He can't breathe, and the oxygen deprivation makes his head spin. He opens up his throat so the man can thrust his cock deeper into his mouth nonetheless, taking a sharp breath in through the nose, tightens his throat to earn himself a moan. He hears bits and pieces of what they're hissing among themselves, and they're right, he's nothing but a fucktoy for them to use. A warm sleeve for them to fill up; and with how badly he's fucked up, he can only be delighted that they've chosen to welcome him back. A prodigal whore.

He tries to hold onto his sanity as they keep fucking into him roughly, when they grip tightly onto his flesh and fill him up with their seed. Giving him only a second's minute of reprieve before another one is wetly pressing in, even thicker and longer than the one before, the cockhead rubbing against his prostate. He moans loud and wet around the cock, and soon it pulls out to splash come all across his face and hair, dirtying him up.

A harsh laughter as another rough hand force open his mouth and plug him down again. "You're adorable like this, Detective. Can't fucking believe that the Second Detective is whoring himself out..." then the hand pulls against his hair sharply to press their cock into his throat ruthlessly, far beyond the level he can take, making him choke violently around the member. They only laugh at his distress, except the one he's deepthroating, busy moaning about how fucking more tighter he gets when he's choking.

"You're just a little slut for us, aren't you?" Another sneer, and he can only weakly moan an affirmative and nod when he's plugged in deep front and back, with other hands playing with his nipples and leaking cock and some rubbing against his fingers for a quick handjob. Feeling the vibration, the man fucking into his mouth pulls him off by the hair, rubbing his cockhead against his cheek. "You got something to tell us, Akechi-kun?" The man coos silkily as Goro tries to catch his breath, with the cockhead still mercilessly fucking straight into his prostate.

"I," Goro shakes, body wracked by sobs, "I—I know my place now, sir," he moans, fingers scrabbling and pulling against the sheets, "p-please just let me... Let me..."

The man holding him by the hair grips his cock and snaps his hips, slapping him hard with his dick with enough impact to make his head turn. "All magnificent and lordly act on TV, but you're really nothing but a whore at the core. Hungry and desperate for cock."

"Y-Yes," he stutters out. "Yes, this is where... where I belong... Should have never been more than this... I'm a just a hole... Nothing more than..." he slurs, eyes closing shut as he feels another orgasm inside of him. 

He gets a pat on the head for that. "At least you know what you are."

"Hey, detective, look over here," he flicks his gaze up at the command, only to meet a pair of smartphone cameras aimed at his direction. His voice freezes in his throat as he's manipulated up, the soft cock still kept warm in his as he leans back on the random man's masculine back, the cocks still in his hand and feverish warm. The lights are too bright. Or is it too dim? His eyes hurt. "Say cheese, detective."

"Thank you," is what tumbles out of his mouth instead, and he licks away a stray drop of come on his lip when he hears the shutter click. "Thank you... Everyone... feel free to use me as you wish..."

"If you're begging that much for it," one of the men behind him sneers and he's pushed face first against a pillow as the soft cock in his ass is replaced with a hard one, pace rough and fast from the beginning. A hand presses down against his neck, choking him as he feels so many different flesh rubbing against him...

It starts to blur from there. At one point, they become impatient, and while he's already plugged tightly, they decide he's loose enough take a second one, pushes in the head against the rim where he is stretched around another cock. Completely stretched, impossibly filled, all he can do is muffle his cries and _just hold on_.

It's all good, throat and ass filled with so much cock, his hole overflowing from all the come he's been given by his benevolent masters, until a loud bang viciously slices through his fluffed senses and numbed cognizance.

"Hands up, Tokyo PD!"

Oh no. Oh no oh no _oh no_. Why is _she_ here.

The sounds of people thrown against walls, cuff slapped, and dragged out. And in the center of it all, Sae Niijima apprehensively tosses him his shirt, glancing at him with a mix of discomfort and horror. It's familiar, the sight, except until now he'd been by _her_ side and not opposing her. He takes it and runs his hand across the fabric, dirtying it. His mouth still tastes sour from all the come he's been fed.

He feels horribly empty.

"What are you doing here?" She glares down at him, looming over him as easy as she always has. She is magnificently just as she always has been, a straight line of justice and righteousness. He's looked up to her back when he was a detective, when he thought he could be something more than he was born into. "In bed with these kind of rancid men..." 

"That should be _my_ question," he snaps back with equal fervor, uncrossing his legs and showing off his hard cock. "I'm here of my volition, you can't just _arrest_ them." 

Sae's eyebrows twitch. "This is _consensual?_ "

He tilts his head and nods. "Of course it is. Why in the world would you think it is not?" 

"Because you've..." She starts, but cuts herself off abruptly. "Anyways, there's been evidence of money tossed around, and prostitution is still illegal, Akechi. You're coming with me," her grip is iron against his wrist. 

"I'm not—you can't just _make_ me, this is where I belong!" he argues and puts up a fight, but those martial-arts trained arms are around his body before he can squeak, lifting him up and it's no longer his choice. 

* * *

When he comes outside—forced outside, carried out in Sae-san's arms—he sees all of the Phantom Thieves. All eight of them, including Akira at the center with his face twisted to distress. The car ride and the way back to Leblanc is relatively quiet, and they ignore everything he asks them. 

* * *

Kurusu Akira is... special.

He always has been, ever since the moment they crossed paths in the TV studio. On the day he waged war against the then-imaginary Phantom Thieves, Akira countered his argument silently but no less powerfully; he knew that moment the other boy opened his mouth that they were destined to be _something_ together. He originally thought they would be enemies, positron and electron accelerating towards each other to create massive energy, but they ended up being more—far more, because unlike anyone else, he didn't have to pretend he was happy. With him, the smile came naturally.

As he was before, he couldn't accept it. The happiness in his life was unnecessary in his revenge plan, nothing but a feeble weakness debilitating him, and that became literal when he put the two and two together and _finally_ inferred that the black-haired barista was the leader of the Phantom Thieves.

A phantom whisper. _Did you ever hesitate? Did you hesitate when you chose me as a target? Did you hesitate when you sent me the calling card? When you dipped the scalpel and carved out my heart? Did you ever stop once to think to just_ ** _tell me_** —

He's not that man anymore. He's not afraid of embracing his wrongs and weaknesses. Without the blinker of rage and revenge blinding him anymore, without him fleeing from the place he truly belongs, he can finally be happy. All thanks to Akira.

And how could someone like him show his thanks in any other way other than on his knees?

"Akechi," he hears the desperate prayer above him as he gently runs his soft fingers down the shaft and grip the sacks while ducking his head down to the shaft to take the tip into his mouth, tongue playing with the slit. A sharp intake of breath comes from the teen, and he smiles around the intrusion in his mouth the best way he can.

To his surprise. Akira actually grabs him by the hair and removes the head from his mouth. Goro doesn't let him take it away too far, making a smear against his cheek. "I know you and your friends are the Phantom Thieves," and when the fingers in his hair hesitate, "but you don't need to worry. I'm not a detective anymore, I have no reason to sell you out."

"Akechi—" This time it's agitated.

Goro dips his head down to press his tongue into the slit. "Think of this as a show of thanks," he hums, then without asking for a reply smashes his mouth over the hot flesh, determined to make the distress in Akira's eyes go away as how he lifted all the heavy weight on his shoulders. Akira shudders violently under his hands, but the hands don't stop him. He bobs his head sensually, pulling out all the way to the tip and smashing half of the shaft back into his throat, running his fingers to cover what he can't take, using all his experience to make this feel the most pleasurable for his savior. After repeating it a few times, he looks up, fever-eyed, but in no ways stopping. On his other side, Akira's eyes are still clouded with guilt and haze.

Goro doesn't understand. Didn't Akira want this? Akira changed his heart. _Didn't you want to become the best detective in Tokyo?_ The question echoes around in his head, making the weight at the bottom of his stomach stir.

_A fatherless son of a prostitute, how could someone like him ever become any more than..._

Goro gently removes his hands from the shaft and the thighs, taking hold of the two hands of the Phantom Thief's and placing them upon his own auburn threads. "Kurusu-kun," he begs, "you can fuck my throat," he mewls against the tip, taking it into his mouth and smashing his lips all the way to the base. He stays still afterwards, waiting for Akira to use him as freely as he wishes.

The quietness is asphyxiating, but thankfully Akira gives in eventually, grunting as he lifts Goro off his cock and thrusts in gently, the movement turning more chaotic and rough as the raven jerks faster to chase his orgasm. His mind blanks out to a blissful white and he keeps his eyes fixed at Akira's rapture—with Akira dictating the rhythm like this, he can hardly move his tongue to pleasure him. Goro's nothing but a sleeve for him to fuck into, an inanimate hot fucktoy drooling uselessly around him.

It's perfect.

"I'm close," Akira tells him, "close, Akechi..."

As the cock jerks in his throat, the hands try to pry him away. _Nonononono_ , this is his _reward_ , he shuts his eyes tightly as he digs his nails into Akira's soft inner thighs, leaving marks, holding on. Akira urgently shouts a few more words, but Goro doesn't listen, sucking harder and swallowing and pulling every trick in the book to get Akira off while his head is hitting the back of his throat. He only gives in when Akira moans as he erupts in his mouth and fills him up, sighing happily as he rolls the taste of ejaculation in his mouth. Even when Akira stops, he doesn't stop sucking, determined not to miss even a single drop of his seed.

He rises to his feet after tucking Akira back into his pants. He feels his own hard-on rub against the inner fabric of the loose sweatpants, making a smudge there. Akira glances guiltily at his pants, but before the other teen can try something he turns away abruptly towards the table, grabbing a memo pad to quickly scribble his new number down.

When he comes back, Akira's still staring dumbly into space. He shouldn't act so gallantly but he can't help but feel his heart soar at the sight, he _does_ give one hell of a blowjob. "Once again, thank you for making me see the error of my ways. As a gift of my gratitude," he offers the card between his index and middle, which Akira carefully takes from him.

"Huh?" He asks dumbly.

He stands, his two hands locked tightly behind his back. "It's my number. You can call me whenever you need any sort of stress relief, or if you merely want to use someone for the evening," he smiles, then bows down to him. "Thank you for your hospitality, Kurusu-kun. I should take my leave now, it's already so late."

When he turns on his heels and descends down the stairs, Akira doesn't chase after him, which he considers a victory. The November air is cold against his wet hair and his barely-dressed state, but it only energizes him, reminds him that he is alive.

This is how it should be.

_Is it?_

As he's walking down the station, his phone rings. Perfect timing, he can't help but grin as he takes one look at the caller—BLOCKED NUMBER. He gently thumbs accept and brings the cell between his ears, humming.

"Yes, sir, it's me..."

* * *

_Akechi Goro had always been raised harshly against the world, his mother with her heart and livelihood broken so thoroughly at such young age, but nothing, nothing could have possibly trained him to what he had seen: the sight of his mother bleeding out from the bathtub, her wrist cut open viciously with a kitchen knife, her suicide paper rolling on the floor._

_She's always told him that this was an eat-or-be-eaten world, that if he didn't become strong enough he would end up a nobody like everyone, like_ her _. Goro hadn't truly realized what it had meant, not really, until the very moment that she chose to end her life due to the unforgivable weight pushing her down, making her weak_ — _himself._

_Goro killed her mother, so he was going to make the man who had forcefully brought him into this world_ **_pay_ ** _. No matter the cost._

_It is an eat-or-be-eaten world._

**Author's Note:**

> if you are feeling like there are bugs crawling all over your body i've done my job. if not. well. im sorry 
> 
> it's interesting, isn't it? what the phantom thieves do is taking away the main desire/will of their targets to a catatonic state, but they don't take away ALL of it, because they still feel intense guilt and the need to confess after. and if goro didn't have that iron forged desire for revenge and his hatred of being controlled what would be left? his intense self deprecation? and how would HE bend to society anyways? that thought mixed with a lot of fucked up 2am despair popped to This 
> 
> @blackmaskfucker if u ever wanna get down n tell me what the fuck is wrong with me


End file.
